


shiny tops and soda pops

by Linara



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Merrill is an innocent, except she isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linara/pseuds/Linara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She does know I've used blood magic, doesn't she?"</p><p>"Completely different type of corruption, Merrill. Think less 'soul' and more 'body'."</p>
            </blockquote>





	shiny tops and soda pops

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the excellent White Stripes song 'Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground'. Be warned, this entire fic was written while listening to said band, so it may show.

Isabella liked elves. She wouldn't deny it if you asked her, in fact she would probably shout it in the streets of Kirkwall if she had a mind to. She just liked elves. 

She had reasons, of course. What's not to love about slender, strong bodies and and those beautiful tapered ears. Hawke understood, or at least she would once she and Fenris got their act together. For now Isabella was alone in her love of the elvhen (not that she minded. More for her, right?)

\---  
The problem with hanging around with a specific group and doing everything with them is that you can get some funny looks if you spend a lot of time away from the group, say, sleeping with someone. Obviously the solution lay in finding someone inside of the group, but that brought its own set of challenges. For one, both Fenris and Hawke were out of the question, both too wrapped in layers of tension and frustration to pay attention to anyone else. Varric and his crossbow clearly had something that Isabella was very unwilling to intrude in, and Anders, while quite a looker, emanated a little too much craziness for her taste. Maybe it was the dedication to one specific goal, she'd always found that off-putting. Aveline was, well, Aveline. It didn't bear thinking about. Much.

The only option was Merrill. Now it wasn't that Merrill was unattractive. She was, in fact, someone who managed to hit most of Isabella's buttons, and in a very good way. It's just that Isabella did not relish the idea of explaining one night stands and 'friends with benefits' to Merrill. There was just something horribly uncomfortable about the thought

It was with a large amount of regret that Isabella shelved her plans for the immediate future. She'd just have to make up more stories about finding leads on the relic, to get some time for herself.

\---

"Do you think Isabella likes me?"

Hawke coughed, choked and proceeded to spray the already disgusting table at Merrill's house with half a bottle of knock-off Falernian wine.

"Does she - what?"

Merrill gave Hawke her patented Look of Concern that she usually reserved for moments when Hawke was arguing with Fenris. Hawke was becoming very familiar with the Look.

"Merrill," Hawke said, choosing her words with about as much care as she ever managed. "Merrill, have you seen the way she looks at you? She spends half of the trips to the Wounded Coast looking at your face and the other half looking at your-"

Hawke coughed again, trying not to laugh at the shock that covered Merrill's face. 

"But every time we go to the Hanged Man she sits as far away from me as possible," Merrill said with no small amount of despair, and it struck Hawke that Merrill probably had no idea how humans - and city elves - went about love and lust. She was out of her depth. 

"That's just Isabella's way of trying not to 'corrupt you'," Hawke said, recalling the rather painful discussion she'd had with Isabella only a few nights before about their respective partners. Or, in both cases, the people they spent a terrible amount of time staring wistfully at.

"She does know I've used blood magic, doesn't she?"

"Completely different type of corruption, Merrill. Think less 'soul' and more 'body'."

Merrill 'hmm'd thoughtfully and Hawke continued her exploration of the supposed Falernian. 

\---

As far as their jobs on the Wounded Coast went, it was a typical one. Hawke and Fenris had argued viciously over whether they should track down a group of slavers before tackling the blood mages they'd been hired to deal with, and Aveline had intervened with a speech about being hired by the Guard and how that meant she should choose. Varric would mind, but it stopped the incessant bickering, so he was leaning more towards grateful. 

It was the trip back to Kirkwall that was the most exhausting part of these jobs. Covered in blood, slime, and the occasional smears of mud from a spell aimed the wrong direction, they all looked awful and smelled worse. It was hard to rouse yourself to walk faster when you'd spent the last seven hours fighting dragons and insane bandits, especially if getting back home meant wading through the crowd that had begun to gather around Kirkwall's gates to see 'the return of the Champion'. Varric had half a mind to tell them that 'the Champion' had a grumpy disposition and couldn't hold her wine to save her life, but he had refrained thus far. 

So yes, the long and weary treks back to Kirkwall were not exciting, and rarely provided any material for his books. He'd hit a writers block in 'Rogue in the Rose', and Isabella had failed to give him anything helpful.

Varric turned to give her a brief glare, because they were supposed to be partners in this writing business and how could he write anything if she had suddenly decided to live the life of a nun, hone-

"Andraste's flaming knickers!" Varric said, staring at the spectacle that had been taking place behind him.

Merrill looked over at him from where she and Isabella were pressed against each other, and gave him an impressive version of Fenris's puppy eyes. He wasn't sure how anyone could manage to look so innocent while being involved in their own ravaging, but then that was Merrill. 

"I'll just leave you to it, then," Varric said hastily, suddenly filled with a new found desire to get back to the Hanged Man. He had a new idea for his book.

\---  
Isabella had visited the Alienage numerous times, but she had to say that Merrill had the nicest bed out of any of the elvhen, no question about it. 

"I like your bed," she murmured to Merrill, running a hand along the delicate lines of her ear. 

"My bed likes you," Merrill said, twisting around to face Isabella. "And I like you."

Isabella buried her face in Merrill's hair and smiled. Perhaps she wouldn't need to have that talk about one night stands after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Cookies to those who spotted the Medicus reference.


End file.
